Michael
It’s dark, a frigid winter’s evening. James hasn’t come home from work yet and I can’t find Charlotte.
Where is she?
Having a bath maybe?
But the bathroom stands cold and empty.
Reading somewhere?
I try her study, the lounge and the dining room, still with no sign of her.
And then as I stop to flick the curtains closed in the lounge, there she is. Outside on the terrace, without
so much as a jacket or a cushion, she hugs her knees as she sits on bare stone paving, staring into the
dark.
She must be bloody freezing…
What’s this about?
Don’t rush it…
I make a couple of hot drinks, then venture outside.
She turns as I approach. I offer her a mug. “Hi. Mind if I join you?”
“Course not.” She sniffs. “That’s lovely. Thank you.”
“Hot nutmeg milk and dash of brandy. I thought if you were determined to freeze your butt, you’d better
have something inside to help thaw it out.”
She nods then turns to stare into the dark again.
After a minute or so, I say, “Come on, spit it out. Whatever it is.”
“I was thinking about my mother.”
“What about her?”
“I might never find her.”
“Perhaps not, but we'll keep looking.”
She blows on the milk, takes a slow mouthful. “What I'm meaning is, it's about continuity, isn't it. As
long as I'm here, there's a bit of her too. And my father. It's not all gone. And if...”
"If what?"
She chokes up. “He’s so unhappy. He’s usually so full of life; so full of… of take-it-in-big-bites… He’s…
It’s just not him.”
“He? Who? James? I thought we were talking about you?”
“Yes… No… Yes…”
“Charlotte, you’re not making a lot of sense.”
Looking away, she drinks more of the milk, but moonlight reflects from the tears trailing down her
cheeks.
I lay an arm over shoulders, kiss her face. She’s chilled, tasting salty. “You want to find your mother. He
wants his daughter back.” I rub at my forehead. “I hate seeing him like this too. I wish there was
something I could do to help him, but he’ll get over it.”
She turns to look at me. “You think so?”
“Time’s a great healer. Georgie turning up like that might not have been pleasant for him, but it is a kind
of closure.” But doubt crawls through my gut and my words.
“I'm not so sure.”
Swilling the dregs of my milk around in the mug, “You might be right. It was a low blow on her part. But
I'm not sure what we can do about it, other than being here for him.”
She tips her head back, draining her mug, setting it to one side. “There's one thing I can do.” There’s a
tremor in her voice. I wait, but she’s stalled and as I look down, a lock of hair winds between her
fingers…
You’ll never make a poker player…
She notices me looking and deliberately, she disentangles the knot of hair then folds her hands around
her knees again.
“Talk to me, Charlotte. What is this really about?”
“I… wanted to talk to you about it before I did anything.” She’s gulping, stuttering her words. “I don't
want you to be angry with me.”
?
Tread carefully…
“Why would I be angry?”
“He wants his daughter.”
“He can't have her. You can’t give her back to him. Neither can I.”
“He could have another daughter.”
Her meaning takes a moment to penetrate. “Charlotte, are you telling me you want to get pregnant? By
James?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
Ahhh…
Letting out air, I say, “Are you sure that's what you want to do…?” I speak slowly, carefully. “… What
with your college work and wanting to be an engineer and all...”
“I have all my life to do the things I want. You too, nearly as much. But he... he doesn't have so much
time and... And I want him to have the chance to see her grow up…” She swallows hard. “But you’re
my husband…”
She speaks so quietly, her head low. Her fingers knot together, then unknot, then tangle again.
I reach, tugging her hands apart. Taking one of them in mine, I kiss cold fingers then hold them
between my warm palms. She gulps and a sob breaks free.
“You're doing too much crying recently,” I say. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trowelling on the
makeup, trying to pretend you’re okay.”
“I don’t know what else I can do to help him. But I didn’t want…. I always thought that if it happened…
Well, that it would be between the two of you. Fifty-fifty if it was you or him. And that would have been
fine. I know it would. But this way, you’d be cut out and…. and….” The words and the tears run away
with her and she falls into sobs, racking her lungs and snatching at her throat.
How do I feel about this?
What’s the right thing to say…?
… that will stand up…
… and last…
… and work…
“Charlotte, give me a few minutes will you. It’s kind of a lot to take on board all at once. I'm going to
make a couple more hot drinks, but don't go away. I'm coming back. I just need to think.” I turn, heading
for the kitchen, but mid-movement, I turn again, pointing a forefinger. “I mean that. Don’t move. I’ll be
back in a few minutes.”
I make the coffee from scratch, grinding beans to give my hands something to do. As they growl and
judder into powder, I set milk on to heat.
She always loved him more…
Is that true?
No…
She’s always loved him differently…
… but she married me…
…
If he’d asked her, she’d have married him…
He gave her to me…
Could have kept her for himself…
…
He funded the house too…
… Helluva wedding present…
…
How do I ever repay all that?
?
This would do it…
…
Am I sure of that?
?
?
Yes.
Coffee spurts, and I tip in the hot milk, then glug a shot of brandy to finish it off. As an afterthought, I
snatch a couple of sheets from the roll of kitchen towel. Mugs in hand, I return outside where my wife
sits sniffling, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.
Thrusting the tissues at her, I sit beside her again, and when she has her nose back under control,
pass her the coffee.
“Charlotte, if you are sure this is what you want, you have my support. James and I agreed long ago
that if we had a family with you, it would be our family.”
“You don't mind? You’re sure?”
“I’m absolutely sure.”
I grip her chin, turning her face to mine with the one hand, wiping her eyes with the other. “Please don’t
be so upset. Listen…”
I squeeze her chin, gently shaking her head. “… I’ve known James longer than you. A lot longer. Our
Triad may have started almost accidentally, but now it’s the Three of us. If one of us needs something,
the other two help….”
In the dark, her eyes are white glints against a pale face. Her breath rises in silver clouds against the
monochrome landscape.
“…. James gave me everything, including you. I know he could have kept you to himself. If he’d asked
you to marry him, you wouldn’t have blinked and that would have been the end of it. I know he did it for
his own reasons, but nonetheless, he gave you to me.”
“I’m not sure what you mean?”
“I mean this. If you are willing to do this for him, then it's time for me to balance the books too. Help to
give him what he needs. So far as I can, I’ll help… If you are sure?”
“I’m sure. But when we’re… um…”
I laugh, releasing my hold on her. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not volunteering for celibacy. I’m not cut
out for it.” I nudge her in the ribs, deliberately suggestively. “But there’s more than one way to skin a
cat...”
The moonlight shines on a spreading show of teeth.
“… Just be prepared to have an open mind, and an open mouth, for a few months, while we get your
oven set to bake. Alright?”
“Alright.”
What else?
“Are you going to tell James what you’re planning? Or would you like me to do it?”
She shakes her head, a sharp, short movement. “I don’t want to say anything, not yet anyway.”
“You don’t?”
What the hell…?
“No. Things aren’t always straightforward, are they? I’d rather tell him, you know… when it’s already
happened.”
“Charlotte, you’re pretty healthy. More so than most. There’s no reason to think…”
“No, I mean, if he knew it might… inhibit him…”
?
“James? Inhibited? That’ll be a first. But okay, I take your point… One more thing.”
“Yes?”
I sling an arm around her shoulders. “Do I get the next one?”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. If that’s settled, can we go inside, these stone flags are doing parts of my anatomy no good at
all.”
*****
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